It is the way it flows,
The way it goes,
That leaves me numb.

So i try to cheat a little,
Turn myself into a winter lake
To see if time will stop breathing too,
And share the stillness of immobility,
With me.

Instead it carves lines in my youth
A little de

I have known so little
Of the sadness of the world,
And it is all in me.

What a weird lonely planet my head is,
Which holds sorrow by the ton.

Every desperate act of courage,
Every sad confrontation with inevitability,
Every connection severed,
Every bit of mi

I can see through these eyes
The clash of unfamiliar landscapes
Tidal waves on their toes
Ready to smash features in.
Insecure, i understand,
Defensive, i understand.

I can perceive with these ears
The murmurs of ancient demons
Who hide behind their sources

What happened in front of the piano?
Did you fall and clench the floor?
Did you get called outside in the sun?
Wasn't black and white your color?
Did you smile, close your eyes and run?

Did you wish the train would wait?
Or did you just forget your keys home?
When y

When it rained for so long,
When leaves whirled through our minds.
In the air nor warm nor cold, suspended,
The scents brought us back to the beginning.
The mourning was in yellow brown and red,
When we listened to the dust settle,
When ending had never been so quiet,

Then came, unannounced,
The idea that I should go around
Chasing a storm that I
Would never catch.
Who is looking for serenity
Might walk the chaos of doubt
Until their voices become one,
Calling the same direction,
Before life becomes life,
And death a final

Falling in shades of gray
It's working its way
Uniformity is spreading
Depth, colors and shapes
Are absorbed by ink
Until the black consensus
That peeks
Through our windows.

It wraps itself around,
Forcibly embraces the world
Rushes into the open mouth

No first, no last
No slow, no fast
No weak, no strong
No good, no wrong

Not frustrated anymore
Not restrained anymore
Not shocked, not locked
Not pleased, not aware
Not teased, not fair

No temptation, no corruption
No vacation, no deception
No puni

What's been written is sometimes
A place that can't be reached,
A bridge that lets mind spill
Onto the tangible world.
A keyhole to outside the empirical,
A place to peep from without falling
Down the slippery chain of thought,
Turning it into a snail-spiral staircase